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“My lord Arthur, I would counsel you not to be over hasty, there must be some more reasonable explanation for Lancelot having been in the Queen’s chamber,” Gawain pleaded as Arthur paced the room, tensions high as treason was exposed.
“And what reason could that possibly be? He’s my finest knight, there is no reason Guinevere would need to meet him privately, it’s no shame to her.”
“Sir, Lancelot had saved her many times over, surely you could understand her wanting to thank him? Perhaps she had some reward for the knight and didn’t want any of the other members of the table getting jealous!”
“Oh I’m sure she had some reward for him! Jesu, Gawain, why are you even defending him? He killed your brother! Agravain is no longer with us and it’s due to this knight you choose to defend. Nearly killed Mordred as well,” Arthur’s anger was only building, it seemed there was no calming him. Gawain also felt a pang of guilt in his chest at the mention of Ags, he tried to warn him about his pride, to not fight Lancelot. He tried to warn Agravaine for his safety because he didn’t want to choose between brother and lover. Gawain shook the thought away, and continued consoling his liege.
“My lord, of all this I have knowledge. I told them they would not get anywhere by approaching Lancelot, but they would not listen! I warned my brother-” Gawain was interrupted by Arthur.
“I will hear no more of this. Make yourself ready, in your best armour, with your brothers Gaheris and Gareth, we are to bring Guinevere to the pyre where she shall have her judgement.” Arthur spoke tensely with a tight fist at his side.
“My most noble king, that I will not do! I will not shame my Queen with such a death.”
“So be it, I’m having your brothers prepared for battle.” Arthur left Gawain alone in the room, Gawain felt a knot in his chest, he knew his brothers weren’t at court as long as he, they didn’t have the confidence to disobey Arthur. Nor were they close enough to Arthur to do so without punishment. Gawain tried to think of some solution but could not find any save, weeping in his chambers and praying to God that Lancelot would live through the attack brought upon him by Arthur.
—---
Gawain’s prayers would be answered in the worst way imaginable, Lancelot was fine, he had survived the siege but with the minimal visibility of his helmet he could hardly make out Gaheris and Gareth in the crowd. They both died at Lancelot’s hands.
Gawain swore after that, that he shall slay Lancelot, or else be slain by him. It was now that Gawain stood before Lancelot, sweat beading their brows and mixed emotions swirling in their eyes. Gawain’s hand hovered at his sword, he was hesitant to grab it as he spoke to Lancelot at the clearing they stood in.
“To do battle, I am full loath,” Lancelot spoke as he swallowed back a lump in his throat.
“What shall we do, then? Is this not my right? Thou hast slain my brother when he carried no arms.”
“And by God I wish they had been, I took great pride in knighting Gareth, to know that his blood stains my hands fills me with a great shame. For four reasons I regret his death, for one, I made him a knight, another is that he was greatly devoted to me, the third, he was noble and true, such a knight didn’t deserve such a death,” Lancelot shook as he spoke to Gawain. “The fourth reason, as I heard that Sir Gareth was dead, I knew well that I should never have your love, my lord Sir Gawain, but an everlasting war between us.”
“Sir Lancelot, I have right well heard enough of thy language, I will never forgive thee my brothers’ death, thou art both false to the King, and to me.” Gawain was in a fury, he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard Lancelot say. The words rang in Gawain’s ears: I knew well that I should never have your love, my lord Sir Gawain. If it were true then why did Lancelot wait so long to say them? Why had he been in Guinevere’s chamber? It was too little too late.
“Sir, such a charge from you breaks me. Gawain, if you will charge me with so high a thing, you must pardon me,” the lump in Lancelot’s throat didn’t seem to go away and tears moved to his eyes.
“Nay, we are past that at this time. I should do battle with thee, with my own hands, body for body, and prove it upon thee that thou hast been false unto my uncle, King Arthur, and to me.” Gawain took Lancelot by his collar and pulled him close, barking the words in his face. In another life, this would be a moment for them to kiss. Tears fell on Lancelot’s cheeks as he realized there was no amount of pleading that would save him now, no amount of begging that would return Gawain to him.
“Gawain, it was in thee that I have got a great part of my worship. The King, I care not so much about his accusations, but as to you, Sir Gawain, I pray you do not charge me with treason, for I must answer to you.”
“Enough of this,” Gawain spat and threw Lancelot to the ground, unable to look at him any longer. “Draw your sword.”
“So help me God,” Lancelot drew his blade and readied his stance. If Gawain looked equally as nervous as he, then it would not be mentioned as there was not a soul around to see it.
Swords clashed together as they fell into a rhythm, attack, parry, retreat. Getting closer then pulling apart, over and over, sweat soaked their clothing and pooled at their temples, if not for their helmets there would be multiple instances where Gawain would be able to feel Lancelot’s breath on his face. As Gawain was trying to suppress the thought of how much he wanted that he was distracted, Lancelot was able to land a blow, a sloppy gash to the side of his neck. Gawain fell and Lancelot was quick to kneel beside him, removing both of their helmets.
“Gawain, Gawain, oh god, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, please,” Lancelot spoke sweetly to Gawain.
“Slay me outright, slay me, Lancelot.”
“I cannot, I will not, you’ve fallen you cannot fight back,” Lancelot took Gawain in his arms. Gawain tried to fight it but his strength was leaving him.
“Lancelot, please, I see no way to live without you now, so slay me.”
“Gawain, I cannot, I’m sending for a messenger, you’ll be returned to Arthur where you’ll be healed. I can’t do this to you,” Lancelot hiccupped between words and tears ran faster down his cheeks. It was then that he did the unexpected, he leaned forward and gave Gawain a tender kiss on the lips, Gawain tried to pull back at first, but eventually leaned into it, unable to resist.
“Why?” was all Gawain could manage before his vision finally blacked out, getting the last view he would have of the man he loved most.
—---
Gawain would be returned to Arthur, he would lose sleep thinking of that kiss. He’d overhear the court physician telling Arthur how he would mutter Lancelot’s name in his sleep. The wound in his neck would never fully heal. Gawain became weaker as the days passed and now Arthur was sitting at his side, neither said it, but there was a silent understanding that Gawain wouldn’t last much longer.
“Uncle,” Gawain spoke in a silent hoarse voice, “I pray that I may have some paper and ink, that I may send Sir Lancelot a letter.”
“Of course,” Arthur had the utensils sent for before helping set Gawain up so he may write his letter. Then Gawain took the pen and wrote:
My dearest, Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of or saw by my days, I, Sir Gawain, send thee greeting,
Letting thee have knowledge that on the tenth day of May, the wound which you served me, I have succumbed to. I would like to set the record that I, Sir Gawain, sought my own death, as I could not see honor in choosing you over my brother, but I wish I could. I beseech thee, Sir Lancelot, return to this land, and see my tomb and pray some prayer for my soul, for I know no better angel to guide me. And of this wound given of thy hand, Sir Lancelot, I think not of a nobler man might I not be slain.
Also, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that ever was between us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in haste, and for my sake, save our King. For Sir Mordred has made a great treason upon Camelot, and at present calls it his own.
You shall know, this letter was written but a few hours before my own time, written with my own hand and subscribed with part of my heart’s blood. From my heart made full with joy from the gift you have given me in parting, though I had no chance to say to you, you must know how I love you, and how I will love you eternally. Therefore, I require thee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb, so I may hope to see you again.
Arthur made a promise to Gawain that no-one would read the letter, save Lancelot, and had it delivered post-haste. Lancelot would cry upon reading it, and make way to Gawain’s tomb as quickly as he could, he prayed nearly a full day there, and not a day went by after that where Lancelot would not think of Gawain. If one could conjure the dead, you may even hear Lancelot say Gawain’s face was the last he thought of before starvation found him during his hermitage.